Faith of the Hunter
by organizzedkhaos
Summary: The Hellspawn comes face to face with a Hunter who uses holy weapons to keep his wounds from healing, a tough adversary Spawn finds out the blessings of faith firsthand. Chapter 2 on it's way.
1. Meeting With the Faithful

Spawn was pissed off. He was always pissed off, it was the nature of the now deceased Al Simmons. The Hellspawn curled up in his cape, in one of his favorite back alleys in New York City. His baleful green eyes watched the outside of the alley, seeing the people shopping on this crisp October evening. A light chill was out, and the sky was clear, giving the Hellspawn a good view of the Heavens. I don't think I'm supposed to see Heaven anymore, but that's my reward for escaping hell.   
  
  
  
That and all of the nifty powers that came with being the Hellspawn. Cape flowing slightly in the breeze, looking as though it had a mind of it's own Spawn reflected on his current situation. His personal quest against his creator was at a halt, and it seemed he was going to have a boring few weeks. He liked boring however, it meant time without getting the crap beaten out of him. Boring still managed to piss our hero off though.  
  
"Al Simmons? Have you accepted Jesus into your life?" The Hellspawn turned to see the speaker, a tall lean man dressed in a brown overcoat, which was covered in crosses. A cross tattoo started below his nose and worked it's way up around his eyes, and finally over his bald head. He had his hands in the pocket of his coat, a gold cross hanging from his neck. "I know I have, and I am at peace. Are you Hellspawn?"   
  
Al Simmons watched the figure who stood behind him in the alley, now pissed off that something new was coming up. He didn't like this cross-toting freak, especially one who knew his name. This was bound to get dicey. The Hellspawn's chains moved on their own accord, shooting out for the figure who made the sign of the cross and muttered a few words in Latin, a soft red hue encircling him and making the chains snap back. Like serpents they hissed as they hit the barrier, waiting for the shield to lower. "In nomine spiritu sancti.." his prayer trailed off, adding to the range of the shield, slowly inching towards Spawn, he felt the baleful glow in his bones.  
  
Spawn grunted and stepped back a few paces, almost at the mouth of the alley now. Raising his right hand a green glow encircled it, which pulsed and teemed with the energies of hell. Sending it for the shield, it folded in upon himself and the prayers of the bald figure increased, vaporizing the green beam and then faltering. Opening his brown overcoat, the figure revealed a full arsenal of pistols and daggers, crosses covering them and etched into the gun handles and knife hilts.   
  
  
  
Jumping to the side behind a dumpster that was a few feet away from the wall, he managed to barely take a bullet in the leg as the cross-toting freak unloaded a half a clip from each of his pistols. The bullet hurt like hell, but not as much as it would have hurt a normal human. Al Simmons tried to heal it, his left hand glowing a soft golden hue. Upon looking down though, he noticed the white glow coming from the bullet. The wound would not close, cursing he waited behind the dumpster, coming up with a plan.  
  
"I am Augustine Dandalo, hunter of the Hellspawn as Divine Punishment from the Lord our God. I use tools of faith to obliterate the fiendish from this place of splendor, all of creation resounds with my holy might. Come out and meet your fate Hellspawn."  
  
Al Simmons laughed, and leapt over the dumpster, his hand immediately wrapped around the neck of the hunter. Augustine grinned, choking as the grip of the Hellspawn tightened, his guns fell from his hands at the pressure, but Augustine lifted his left hand and drew the sign of the cross on the Hellspawn's stomach. A white glow burned like liquid fire, cutting out the cross in Spawn's flesh.  
  
  
  
Letting go of Dandalo, Al was now not just pissed off, but very pissed off. Unable to heal this new wound, Dandalo removed two daggers and twirled them in his hands. Spawn's chains rose to defend him as the hunter moved with unprecedented speed, lashing out with both knives, left and right, up and down. The chains wrapped around the knives making them immobile and then the Hellspawn grinned, he would move in for the kill, his right hand glowing with a green fire.  
  
Letting go of the knives Augustine drew a pistol, hidden in one of his pockets. Augustine blasted the Hellspawn three times in the chest before Al Simmons fell to the Earth, his chains unraveling. Augustine wiped the blood from his mouth and moved to stand over the writhing figure of Al Simmons. He aimed the gun directly at his head, and began a Latin prayer. Closing his eyes a white glow enveloped his gun as a Latin prayer was spoken, the Hellspawn unable to move but seeing his apparent doom.  
  
Spawn could not die like this, some freak Christian hunter who somehow knew his name was not going to end the existence he'd managed to keep through thick and thin. He'd fought the fricking armies of hell, no human was going to take him down. Green fire still upon his hand he released it at the gun, a clash of white and green shattering the pistol into a million pieces, burning the hand of Augustine. Cursing for his carelessness Augustine, turned and ran down the alley at top speed, muscular legs pumping under blue jeans.  
  
Spawn rose slowly and watched him leave, interested by this human. He would meet him again most likely, but not under better circumstances at all. This was defiantly an opponent he would not befriend. Spawn gripped the wounds caused by the holy symbols and bullets, panting and retreating into the solace of his alley. Augustine was nowhere to be found, but a gold cross laid on the ground. Spawn picked it up and held it in his hand, surprised it didn't hurt him. Apparently the faith behind the person using the cross was what made it dangerous, not the object.  
  
Chapter 2 is on it's way. 


	2. The Power of Faith

Al Simmons hated this BS. Looking for Augustine was going to be a problem, as he had no clue where to look. It had been three nights from his encounter, and still those bullet wounds and the cross wound on his torso hadn't healed all the way. His leg was just now getting over the throbbing pain it felt, via Augustine's holy bullet.   
  
  
  
This gave Spawn plenty of time to contemplate on the situation. Augustine had come out of nowhere, had known his name, and was toting a bunch of holy relics and enough faith to cause problems. What was he? A Demon hunter? The possibilities were endless, but one thing was certain: he wanted the Hellspawn.  
  
  
  
The Hellspawn sat perched above a dumpster in his alley, planning out his course of action. Searching the back alleys of New York City might give him a few leads, or maybe he could prepare a trap for him so when Augustine came back he would be ready. Another crisp October night coated New York City, with a very light drizzle falling upon the red cape of Spawn.  
  
Stalking towards the back of the alley, he figured it wasn't a good idea to wait for Augustine to show up. Tearing a hole in the fence in the back of the alley with a blast of green energy the big guy was getting ready to find this freak. Gold cross picked up on the way. Looking at the cross, he saw a name engraved on the back. "St. John's Church." Augustine didn't have the appearance to be a successful preacher, but maybe he could be found at the church.  
  
The church being only a few blocks away was almost instantly assaulted by the Hellspawn. Using the back alleys, rat and cockroach infested, he was able to find his way to the church with relative ease. He loved his back alleys, they were all his. The bums were his people, the rats and cockroaches his subjects, and the ground he walked upon his territory. It was the only place left for someone like him.  
  
Slinking around the mouth of an alleyway, he saw the Church to his left. The powers of the Hellspawn were evoked as chains shot out to smash into the building, allowing him to climb to the top. Two windows that allowed light into the spacious church were just waiting to be cinematically smashed by the Hellspawn. Taking it as his cue, Al Simmons slammed his fist into the glass and shattered it, jumping down and allowing his cape to gently settle him on the ground, floating all the way down.  
  
  
  
There was no one in the church at this hour, and Spawn hoped he hadn't broken in for nothing. Dimmed lights were visible in the church, which had pews and various stained glass windows, detailing various holy scenes. A large crucifix was above the marble altar, this place reeked of cash. From the darkness around the altar, where no lights were glowed a white cross.  
  
Augustine stepped out from the darkness, the cross on his head glowing. Holy pistol in one hand and a sword with Latin etchings and a cross on the hilt adorned his clenched fists. Spawn began to feel searing heat from all around him, forcing him down on his knees. "You dare defile this holy place with your presence Hellspawn, let your own sins overpower you!", the holy man bellowed.  
  
Spawn's transgressions flashed in his mind, even killing in the name of good was tainted by his demonic nature. Each sinned burned like white fire, immobilizing him and causing him just as much pain as the holy bullets, whose wounds now glowed with a soft white hue. Forcing himself to stand, his cape whipped around him and the Hellspawn growled. "You bastard..I will kill you holy man!"  
  
Augustine merely laughed, and walked towards Spawn, his sword outstretched. He raised it above his head, and muttered a prayer in Latin, the sword becoming overpowered with a white glow. Spawn was filled with conviction in what he perceived to be his final moments. He was a demon, he was doing evil, but all for Wanda. The prospect of never seeing her again drove his mind to the brink of insanity, breaking him from any care of his sins.  
  
The sword came down fast and hard, but Al Simmons's hands slammed on it from left and right before it could touch the seams that kept his face together. Grinning devilishly, with balefire teeming from his eyes, his palms burned from the holy energy of the blade. He could see Augustine trying the same move he had three nights previous, he was going to drop the blade and draw his pistol. He really wanted Spawn dead.  
  
Spawn didn't give him the chance, and he twisted the sword to get Augustine's body in an awkward position, ignoring the burning sensations that coursed through his hands and was now in his wrists. Bending down and sweeping his leg out behind Augustine's he sent the holy man tumbling to the ground, Spawn releasing his grip on the sword.  
  
Pleased by this new turn, the Hellspawn only felt a slight paining sensation from the holy church. Augustine grinned and stood slowly, that red glow once more enveloping his body as he prayed in the language of the holy Mother Church. The glow shot out, enveloping the Hellspawn and folding in on him. Pressure like none he had ever felt before threatened to crush Al Simmons into oblivion.  
  
Focusing all of the powers of hell in his hands, green balefire flowed freely, and was focused at the epicenter of the dome of red surrounding most of the church, and crushing him. Screaming into the globe, he released the energy, which hit the weak folding point of the energy. Searing green flames slammed through, and burned a hole right through Augustine.  
  
Red dome fading almost immediately, the holy man fell to his knees, looking up at the Hellspawn with a shocked expression. Burn wounds covered any place blood would have to leave his body, while green embers shot forth instead. Augustine gripped his sword hilt, muttering something in a tongue long forgotten and falling over, dead in this world.  
  
The Hellspawn watched him for many long moments, and picked up his body and the weapons as well. The weapons no longer touched him, for truly it was the power of the faith behind the user of the weapons. Leaving the way he came in using the skills of the Hellspawn, Al Simmons returned to his alley, many thoughts on his mind.   
  
  
  
After dumping off the body Al was ready to just crash for the evening. It'd be a tough three days. Boring was good, or so he had said earlier. He was so right, and he just now realized it. Hopefully he wouldn't face anyone like that again. His wounds were closing now, they didn't burn anymore but still couldn't be healed so quickly. In the back of his head, soft Latin prayers tormented him through the night. "Pater noster...." 


	3. End of the Faithful

This night is only getting better.. Thought the Hellspawn as he raced towards the sound of screams. The noise came from one of his back alleys, and sounded like a woman screaming rape. Of course, when you were in such a situation you were supposed to scream fire, no one wanted to be caught in a rape case.  
  
Moonlight danced upon the form of the running warrior of Hell as Spawn dashed towards the sound, his boots pounding on the pavement of the alley. A month had passed since his fight with Augustine, and the November air was even colder on the East Coast city of New York. Busting out into the alley where the noise was coming from, three figures wearing black overcoats sat patiently by the while, while a stereo made the noises.  
  
Had the Hellspawn had eyebrows, they would be arched in question. However, such was not possible and instead one of his many chains shot out and stabbed right through the middle of the stereo, ending the sounds. The three figures all laughed in unison, a small but strong laugh.  
  
Standing was the one in the middle, who pilled back the hood on his overcoat. He had short messy black hair and dark eyes. His hands were at his sides, a perpetual devilish grin on his face. "Welcome Hellspawn, we were hoping Augustine would provide more of a challenge but apparently there isn't much we can throw at you that will have a chance is there?"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about skinny?" It dawned on Spawn the nature of the slender figure underneath the coat, weak and human.  
  
"Mr. Dandalo, you killed him. I'm not quite sure how else I'm supposed to put it Mr. Simmons."  
  
"What is it to you little man?" The Hellspawn bellowed into the alley, the two figures beside the speaker laughed slightly.  
  
"We sent him to you, and now we offer his soul as a tribute to you great Hellspawn." He smiled and stepped fully into the light, a pentagram visible on his forehead. "You see, Mr. Dandalo worked for us. His mission was to test your strength, to see if you were truly the top of the food chain in demons on the Earth. Apparently, you got the best of him. In death Mr. Dandalo may still yet serve the Followers of the Fallen Host. Do you believe in Satan Mr. Simmons?"  
  
"I believe in Hell, I've been there. But why do I need to tell you that?" The mind of Spawn tried to process the information this man was spitting out.  
  
"Mr. Dandalo is there now most likely, he was a very good actor. I think the Latin helped don't you think?"  
  
"He was a holy man, his bullets caused wounds in me no other gun could replicate."  
  
"What if I were to tell you that was just one of the tricks my organization has available to itself? You aren't good at looking past false charades apparently, Augustine Niccilo Dandalo worships the only god left, Satan."  
  
"Your making about as little sense as me just standing here and not ripping your vocal cords out."  
  
"Please calm yourself Mr. Simmons, hold yourself in control. God is dead, he cannot possibly have sent a hunter to destroy you. As I said, Augustine Niccilo Dandalo was a test. It appears you are worthy of our worship Hellspawn."   
  
To his surprise, the two figures beside the man and the man himself got on his knees. "I am Lucius Aragon Hellspawn, myself and my men devote ourselves to your ruler ship over this dominion of Earth. May the majesty of hell be furthered with our advances in your realm."  
  
Spawn folded his arms over his chest, he hated the religious types. Okay, so Al Simmons' entire story was about Hell, but he still hated the religious types. Three heads bowed to him, and remained silent for many long moments. The glint of steel caught his eyes, and he watched as the men still bowed before him. "Rise, you stupid idiots. I hate you people so much, don't worship me. If you don't leave my damn alley I'm going to kill you."  
  
  
  
However, it appeared his words fell on deaf ears, as blood slowly tricked down the necks and coats of the three men, their heads slowly sliding off of their necks. Spawn's chains immediately fluttered out, prepared to defend against whatever onslaught came. "Blasphemer! Defiler of the word! God is alive and well, you just have yet to find him."   
  
A few dove's feathers fell by Spawn's feet, and he looked in the direction they came from only to find a figure swathed in white light. A cross burned as a tattoo among his head, light blazing out of it. Augustine Niccilo Dandalo had a wingspan of about a meter, with a steel sword in his hand, his sword. "Fools lie and deceive, Satan is the Father of Lies. You Hellspawn do not get off so easy as well, you are a demon and must be removed from this earth."   
  
The Hellspawn looked at his clothes, which were not a white robe with crosses embroidered in the center and various other areas. Grinning the Hellspawn prepared for a battle, kicking Lucius' head against the wall nearest the angel and splattering blood all over Augustine. The radiant angel, covered in blood began to spread a deathly red globe as he had before in human form. However in this dome there was no weak spot, nowhere for Spawn to blast. Rolling towards the only space not enveloped within seconds of the Dome's creation, he came upon the body of Lucius.  
  
His hand came over something small and silver, a pendant that had been on Lucius' neck. Looking at it, he saw the pentagram made perfectly. It was ornate, with various demonic names written on each line. Spawn threw it at the barrier of red as it expanded, the power of the faith in hell behind it shattering the barrier and allowing Spawn a few moments of reprieve from the fear it brought.  
  
Lunging from his crouched position, he tackled the Angel to the ground, pinning his arms down. The Angel broke his sword arm free, and promptly smashed his hilt into Spawn's forehead. Al Simmons was now very pissed as green blood oozed from the wound. A blast of pure white light send Spawn flying off of him and into the wall in the back of the alley.   
  
Causing debris to cover the area from his impact, he stood and growled. The Angel advanced on him in a flurry, and with a swipe of his glowing sword removed the left arm of the Hellspawn. Spawn roared in fury and watched as the limb crashed to the ground, green blood spraying into the eyes of God's divine punishment.   
  
Momentarily blinded, Spawn took that moment of the Angel's weakness to charge up a beam of pure balefire. As the Angel finally regained his sight, it was blocked out by the open palm of the Hellspawn. Opening his mouth to say something, the Hellspawn gave him no chance, blasting his head right off of his shoulders.  
  
The burned pulp of a head rolled right next to Lucius'. The Hellspawn growled and spent what energy he had left to get his arm back in it's rightful place, blood still dripping from some of his wounds. He stalked over to the boy and head of the angel, which slowly faded away, nothing but the few doves feathers that heralded his appearance left behind.   
  
Picking them up, he came to the realization that he just killed an angel. Sometimes he hated being a demon. Shaking his head, He just walked out of the back of the alley, letting the cops clean up this mess. NYC was dangerous enough for normal humans but it was pretty bad for the Hellspawn as well. For all of his powers Spawn was still venerable, there would always be someone who posed a challenge and a threat to his dominion over the back alleys.  
  
He just hoped and wished that they would give up for awhile. The Hellspawn shook his head and went back to his own alley, making it there within a few minutes. He sat down and starred at the dove feathers, feathers that had come off of Angel wings. Perhaps there was a God? Perhaps he was out there. Well if he was he wasn't doing the Hellspawn any good.  
  
Continuing to stare at his little morsel of an Angel, the Hellspawn was not saddened. 


End file.
